


Sunburst

by hanthelibrarian



Series: Haunt Me SMAU Prose [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Gen, Haunt Me SMAU, Louisiana Voodoo, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Rituals, Voodoo, not accurate at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanthelibrarian/pseuds/hanthelibrarian
Summary: What happened during Richie's second trip to Louisiana? Did the ritual meant to save Eddie from being stuck as a ghost on Earth actually work?
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak
Series: Haunt Me SMAU Prose [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925617
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Sunburst

Richie had found this psychic (or was she a voodoo priestess? He never could remember) on some ghost forum online. He had posted about wanting to contact his friend who had passed, sharing as few details as possible, and he had gone through about five hacks and phonies before coming across Olivia Broussard. From the beginning, Richie could tell that she was different. She spoke with a tone that reminded Richie of his high school librarian: firm yet understanding. His first few interactions with her were... rough, to say the least. His sense of humor did not match up with hers and she almost dropped him as a client a few times because she felt he was not taking this as seriously as he should. Then the first ritual happened.

Richie had never been so scared before, outside of Derry. Madame Broussard, as she was called, had pulled him from his hotel room in the dead of night and taken him to a nearly dried-up offshoot of the Mississippi River, the only light guiding them was the old fashioned lantern she held on a shepherd's hook. If that wasn't scary enough, Richie had been having nightmares of good old Pennywise the whole week before so he was sure that Senor Chucklefuck would show up from the dead. Half of Richie actually wanted him to show up, somehow convinced that Eddie would show up with him, the hole in his chest now sewn shut and healed.

She hadn't told him what the ritual would entail and when she pulled out all of the herbs and animal parts and everything she would need, Richie had to swallow down bile. He was really doing this; he just had to remind himself who he was doing it for. That night, before the ritual started, Richie pulled up his phone and looked at his lock screen. On it was a picture of a polaroid that he and Eddie had taken that last summer before things went to shit. Their arms were wrapped around each other, grins on their faces, and Richie could tell he was blushing in the photo. Being that close to Eddie, no matter how often it happened, always made him heat up. That's what love does to you, he thought at the time.

Tonight, however, Richie is looking at a different picture. This one is from the Jade; Ben had snuck a picture of Eddie laughing at some joke Richie had told and sent it to him. Ben had always been pretty good at seeing people's feelings broadcasted in their eyes, their voices, their actions. Looking at this picture hurts but he forces himself to keep his eyes focused on it. This is who he is doing all of this shit for. He's doing this to make up for the 27 years they should have had together, in whatever way Eddie would have him. He's doing this to make up for the future they would have had if he had just been that much quicker. It's his fault, really, that Eddie is dead. He had seen what was going to happen when he was in the Deadlights; he just hadn't reacted fast enough once Eddie knocked him down.

Madame Broussard is calling to him across the fire that she must have started while Richie was staring at the love of his life in the only way he can now: through a screen. "Mr. Tozier, are you ready?"

He nods and, taking the knife she offers him, does as she instructs. He holds the blade against his left palm, in the exact same position that the piece of broken glass was all those years ago, and he cuts, the blood dripping into the fire. A sizzle, a puff of odd color smoke, and then...

He's thrown back, colliding with a tree or a small boulder, he isn't sure. Whatever is was hurt and he knows he's going to have bruises for weeks. His ears are ringing and he can't get his bearings as he tries to stand. His glasses are miraculously still on his face and he scans his surroundings, searching for Broussard. The fire is out, all that's left is a smoulding pile of ash that is covered in a sickly green hue. Slime? Sap? Whatever it is, Richie is going nowhere near it.

"Olivia?" He calls out to her, hoping that his stupidity hadn't gotten her killed.  _ Of course the ritual went to shit,  _ Richie thinks, his non-sliced open hand rubbing the back of his head where a lump is forming.  _ I actually thought Eddie cared about me enough that my blood would work. At best, I was just a friend, someone who made him laugh. I should have broken into his damn house like I planned. _

There's a noise and he tries to take a step toward it, using what little strength he has right now to push himself off the tree behind it (he assumed it was a tree from the size and shape and feel but fuck if he knows. This whole place could be Hell for all he knows.) He calls out again, trying to get his ears to stop ringing so loudly so he can hear better. It takes a bit but... there! Broussard is lying in the shallow waters of the nearly dried-up riverbed that she apparently preferred to do her rituals at as this is the same one that the first ritual was done at. Richie hobbles over to her, his back and head and legs all screaming at him to stop, to lay down and rest.

By the time he gets over to her, she's clawing her way up the bank and into the scorched grass. It is now that Richie notices that the grass around the firepit is scorched, burned as if a wildfire had ravaged it. The shape of the burn isn't natural, though, and something about it tickles at the back of his memory. He feels as if he's seen the shape before, perhaps in a dream? It's a perfect sunburst, tendrils of pseudo-sunlight extending from the corona of scorched grass that surrounds the central firepit. The green slime? sap? phlegm? at the center is also familiar. Perhaps it's the hue, perhaps it's the stickiness of whatever substance it is but he thinks he saw that in the same dream.

"Richie!" At the sound of his name, he whips his head around, the ringing in his ears now replaced by a nauseating dizziness that gets worse the more he moves. Broussard is still on the ground and at first he thinks it was her but when she looks up at him bewildered, he knows better.

"Eddie?"


End file.
